


delight in the shade of the morning sun

by hadesinfleurs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Angst, Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Quote: We're On Our Own Side (Good Omens), Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 08:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hadesinfleurs/pseuds/hadesinfleurs
Summary: I think six thousand years might go by too fast when you don't really want something to happen.Four times Aziraphale has left and the one time he decided to stay.





	1. neon lights

I.  
  
That was it, he thought. It could've been worse.  
  
Crowley swallowed dry something he was not entirely sure what it was. He turned his eyes, for so long reflecting nothing but the phosphorescent neon lights of Soho, back to the tartan thermos laying on the passenger's seat. Where Aziraphale was sitting a while ago.  
  
A few minutes. A couple of hours, perhaps. He couldn't tell exactly how long it had been since Aziraphale turned around the corner and disappeared among the giggly intoxicated bohemian faces. He remembered most of what has happened before it, though.  
  
Too fast. Apparently.  
  
Crowley streched his back against the dark leathered seat, that seemed so uncomfortable for the very first time. The streets seemed more loud and suffocating than usual too.  
  
I should get going, he thought. Several times for the past undetermined minutes and then moments later tossing this thought along with the others at the pond of oblivion inside his head.  
  
Too fast for him. That was not how he expected this to unroll, but somehow it did. They have never actually talked about it, nor was it something he was expecting to discuss so casually. But they did. Aziraphale did. And his answer was a no.  
  
And that was it.  
  
Crowley absentmindedly touched his own throat, still feeling it so much for some reason. He thought he would have so much more to say, or anything at all. He was never entirely sure about everything he should say when the moment came, but some words had been stuck in his mind for a while, drifting as bugs between unsaid sentences. Since forever. So much. More than anything else. Stronger than anything else. Those were some of them.  
  
Perhaps that was what has been feeling so dry inside his mouth and throat.  
  
The taste of words gone to waste.  
  
Crowley didn't know if it was better to have the answer before actually making the question or not. But it didn't really matter anymore, did it?  
  
He couldn't remember if it had been five or six months since the last time they've met, although he was perfectly aware that not a night went by without thinking about what he would be doing. Or if he would think of him the same way he did. As frequently as he did.  
  
I think six thousand years might go by too fast when you don't really want something to happen. And that was his answer.  
  
Crowley leaned his face on the soft leather of the steering wheel. He should go home, he thought once again. When he took notice of the mellow, soft melody that the Bentley's radio was chanting as in a attempt to soothe him, Elvis was already at the chorus:  
  
_Little things I should have said and done_  
_ I just never took the time_  
_ You were always on my mind_  
_ You are always on my mind_  
_ You are always on my mind_  
  
Or the car could be just teasing him as usual, as the snarky little shit it was.  
  
Not many years later, after being properly introduced to Queen, the Bentley would not let a single time in which Crowley thought about that moment slide without immediately playing "Love of my life" to make him miserable.  
  
"You shut the fuck up." He said at the moment. He said it every time it would happen afterwards.


	2. lamp posts

II.  
  
Crowley was staring at his own hands laying upon his knees. He turned one of his palms up, tracing it's lines with his fingertips. The feeling itself felt very strange. It was somehow like walking into someone else's room. Wearing someone else's clothes.  
  
Well, it was his room. Bookshop. And those were his clothes, after all.  
  
Looking at the glassed shelves, he could see Aziraphale's reflection looking back at him. His eyebrows were stiff and tense, ruining perfectly angelic eyes - He took note and tried to relax his expression a bit. He didn't want to ruin it by looking the least intimidating.  
  
He watched as his reflection became more relaxed, but still not as gentle as it should be. Aziraphale's eyes tended to appear more worried than tense when he was nervous but hopefully he was the only one aware of that. It would have to do it for now.  
  
Crowley sighed, the lowest he possibly could not to hear Aziraphale's voice doing the same thing. He was worried and tense. And nervous at the mere thought that that stupid plan could possibly not work as they imagined. It was a shot in the dark, but it was their only shot.  
  
He stood up, hassled, removing his beige coat and placing it on the chair's crest rail. He wondered what Aziraphale could be doing right now, and if he would feel as restrained and anxious in his body as he did in his. He didn't feel like moving at all, not even looking at his own reflection. It all seemed to... intimate.  
  
Crowley remembered how he looked wearing his body as they said goodbye a few hours ago, not knowing if for the last time. He was standing against the feeble light of a lamp post and casting a shadow upon him. Crowley could not remember ever seeing so much peace coming from his serpentine eyes. It had never been so tranquilizing to stare at his own mirrored expression.  
  
Both had agreed to meet at St. James for ice cream by noon, if they didn't come for them before that. Aziraphale mentioned something about wanting to savor a vanilla cone before facing death in the eye, to what Crowley reminded him that he was not a vanilla cone type of guy. Aziraphale seemed dissatisfied with that answer, lighting up cheerfully when Crowley assured to let him have a taste of his.  
  
Aziraphale got somehow serious. As if hit by the sudden realization that even something simple as sharing an ice cream could no longer be possible for both of them. Crowley noticed his frown, so strangely stamped on his own complexion.  
  
"Angel."  
  
"Yes, my dear?"  
  
"If we are to live, we will need to talk."  
  
He had absolutely no idea where that came from. It seemed like it was easier to be said with Aziraphale's voice than his own. Aziraphale was braver than him in every way. He always was. If we are to live I don't want to waste a single second avoiding that conversation anymore.  
  
The whole point of coming back alive tomorrow should be finally talking about what actually matters to me.  
  
Aziraphale was no longer smiling, and in his silence Crowley could feel the emptiness of the Bentley back in that day in '61. The emptiness of his house after sunset and all the hallow spaces in his life in which he wished there was something else. Someone else.  
  
The angel went down the doorstep to stand beside him. Weirded out by his own height ("Is this how my hair looks from above?" He confessed him to think a few days after that), he looked down to stare him in the eye.  
  
Reflected in his own serpentine eyes, which looked more serene than ever before, Crowley had no idea of what was going through his mind.  
  
Crowley felt every single drop of blood in his body rush to his head when he came closer. Leaning upon him without ever averting his eyes from his.  
  
Holy fuck. Wait.  
  
Wait wait wait wait wait.  
  
Something was not right. Aziraphale was not like this. He was not like this either. Nothing about that seemed like something supposed to be happening.  
  
He felt himself shiver when his hand touched his cheek, holding his face só tenderly as if he was the most precious being in Creation. Touching him on _purpose_. Staring at him so intensely, so enticed by it that Crowley felt close to combust.  
  
It was not the proximity between them that made him paralyze under that stare.  
  
It was the yearning behind it. Those eyes also hid words that didn't want to go to waste.  
  
How could it be? Do you want to live as much as I do?  
  
And to stay with me, as much as I want you to?  
  
Aziraphale interrupted himself, seeming distraught for a second. He looked down and let out a sigh, disappointed at the timing. That too would have to wait.  
  
When he looked back at Crowley, he found him with lips parted and a crimson red fluster on his complexion. Aziraphale smiled, bitterly. Something about Crowley was so pure that he couldn't possibly imagine an angel capable of showing such an innocent and loving expression. Even one wearing his own face.  
  
He leaned to kiss him on the cheek, gently. Still close enough for Crowley to feel his breath against his face.  
  
Later on, he would admit to Crowley that wearing his body was crucial to be able to do that without collapsing. Because Crowley was braver than him in every way. Always was. Therefore he felt that he should be brave for their plan to work.  
  
"I'd love to." He murmured, through a gentle smile, just before leaving him at the doorstep once again. Paralyzed and somehow terrified of what could have happened.  
  
The lingering feeling of their last encounter made Crowley, at the bookshop, shift uncomfortable in his chair.  
  
Fucking hell.  
  
Absentmindedly, his fingertips have reached for his lips, idly sliding through it and unraveling that feeling. They were silky and very soft. He wondered how it would feel like to touch with his own lips.  
  
_Fucking hell._  
  
Crowley grunted, furiously rubbing his face to stop it from getting flustered once again.  
  
Would he really have kissed him back then?  
  
Like for real?  
  
Surprinsingly, he didn't think this far ahead. They have accidentaly brushed cheeks posing together for a Polaroid almost fourty years ago and he had not been able to sleep for a month after that.  
  
The disguised demon let out a long exhasperated sigh, leaning on the desk and resting his head on a palm. The bookshop was probably the worst place to be thinking about that. The air was so intoxicated with Aziraphale that it felt like a presence lurking between the shelves. Waiting for him to let the guard down and assault him amidst an unproper thought.  
  
Better not to think about anything else. Still three more hours until noon.  
  
Crowley noticed his elbow was creating a giant wrinkle in Aziraphale's coat, so he took it off from the chair's crest rail before it got worse.  
  
He streched his arms and held it before his eyes to analyze the damage. A bit of ironing would do the trick.  
  
The coat was also intoxicated with Aziraphale's scent.  
  
He wondered for a second what would Aziraphale be doing in his flat and then remembered that it would be better not to think about anything at all.  
  
Three more hours.  
  
He brought the coat closer to his face and closed his eyes. Drowning a bit in that scent before pretending he wouldn't instantly miracle the wrinkles away instead of investing himself in looking the whole place for an iron.  
  
Everything about him was very, very sweet.


	3. the morning sun

III.  
  
The angel went quiet for a couple of minutes, his head laying on Crowley's chest. Crowley distractedly stroke the fair hair between his fingers, trying to get used to the feeling. Touching him and being touched was a lot more difficult than it seemed at first. It felt good. Also very wrong somehow.  
  
Aziraphale was very patient, letting him take his time until he felt comfortable enough to reach for him. At times he would take his hand and place it on his face, or put his arm around himself when they were watching something together or simply offer his hand for him to hold when they were in public.  
  
Those were all things Crowley were not able to do on his own as of yet, but he wanted to. It was good to have one another to teach each other how to be more comfortable with touching on purpose. Even something as casual as playing with the angel's fluffy hair like he'd been for the past minutes would not be possible not so long ago. Let alone the love they made moments before.  
  
In a not so distant past, the mere thought of making love to Aziraphale would've been enough to kill him on the spot.  
  
He noticed Aziraphale was shaking a bit. Looking down at his own chest, Crowley found him covering his face with one hand. The angel was chuckling and inconspicuously trying not to.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Did you... did you just call me 'babe' back then?"  
  
A fast rewind of the past hours went through his mind while he tried to recall that particular moment. It could have happened anytime between his last orgasm and the moment Aziraphale walked in.  
  
"Uh, that could've been. Yes. Possibly."  
  
Aziraphale snorted, hiding his giggling face against Crowley's chest. Crowley waited for him to cease, confused about the meaning of that and still not sure if that was something he should be embarrassed about or not.  
  
"What is so funny about it?"  
  
"Nothing, it's really nothing, I'm just-" He did his best to cease that laughter before proceeding, respectfully. "I thought it was very sweet. You are very sweet."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
He too smiled after that. Part not as embarassed as he expected to be, part quite happy that he enjoyed it as well.  
  
Crowley recalled something he wanted to share. He wasn't entirely sure since when.  
  
"Do you remember watching the sunrise from the top of the gates? Way back, at The Garden?"  
  
"Oh, do I." Aziraphale let out an impressed sigh, by both nostalgia and the power of that memory. "How does one forget such a sight. What about it?"  
  
Crowley seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if still searching for words.  
  
"Well, London is no Eden. But I got quite a view of the morning sun from that window." He nodded his head so as to indicate the large window behind closed drapes, right at the center of the bedroom. "Quite a view. I've always thought that you would enjoy watching the sunrise from there."  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
Crowley was about to reafirm that statement when he noticed the smug tone in which Aziraphale has asked that question. He looked down and found him giving him a smirk.  
  
"You are such a bastard."  
  
"Hey, angel-" Aziraphale mimiced his voice, trying his best to control his own laughter while doing so. "Won't you come in my very own bedroom to watch the sunrise. Quite a view, I assure you. Truly magical."  
  
"I'm warning you."  
  
"May I tempt you to the most dazzling sight of all. Just after this trail of rose petals, a lovely bedroom. With a lovely view of the rising sun. Can you imagine-"  
  
"That's it, I'll shut you up."  
  
Aziraphale burst into laughter when Crowley rolled to the side to be on top of him, immediately covering the demon's mouth with his hand when he approached for a kiss.  
  
"Why are you such an idiot?" His voice was serious and muffled against Aziraphale's palm.  
  
"I thought you were all down for idiot."  
  
Aziraphale removed the hand from his mouth and placed it on his head, plunging his fingers between the rust colored locks.  
  
"Dead right I am." Crowley laid a kiss on his wrist, while his hand would now distractedly pet his hair.  
  
Aziraphale smiled at the serious face he was trying to put. Crowley was nothing but a sweetheart.  
  
"To watch the sunrise together. I'd be the most happy to give in this temptation."  
  
"Good to know. In that case I might just invite you, then."  
  
"Looking forward to it."  
  
Crowley rested his chin on the angel's chest, looking directly at him during the impressive whole seconds it took for him to become uncomfortable and to avert his eyes to the side, because Aziraphale wouldn't do it first.  
  
Aziraphale had the most loving way to look at him and making him feel special, but it could be a difficult thing to retribute, or if anything, to endure. Under that gaze he felt all sorts of things, more than he could actually handle. He felt seen. And important. And very loved.  
  
Reciprocated love was a blast. Big reciprocated love fan, he found himself to be.  
  
He was so happy. So bloody happy that it made him scared of being so happy that you could no longer hit the brakes.  
  
It was the first time that he was afraid of the collision.  
  
"Could you kiss me again?"  
  
He heard his angel say. And he did.  
  
When Crowley woke up the next day, the sun was already high and he was alone. He sat in bed, called the angel's name and waited for a response. There was none. After getting up and taking a brief and confused look around his own house, he would find above the kitchen's countertop a note saying: "Sorry to leave in such a fashion, I didn't want to wake you up. Thank you for a lovely night. - A."  
  
Crowley read that note a few times before actually processing those words.  
  
He was gone.  
  
Crowley scratched the back of his neck, feeling somewhat confused about what had been a familiar outcome for such a long time.  
  
It couldn't be much a big of a deal but... I don't know, he thought.  
  
That was the one time he wasn't expecting Aziraphale to leave him.  
  



	4. lights out

IV.  
  
He made an interesting discovery about himself, about the third or fourth time they were together.  
  
Being sex something to be done without lights on (Metaphorically speaking, of course. He was all down for lights on), he discovered how well he could see in the dark of Aziraphale's desires. Crowley still wasn't sure if it was a demonic trait or not, the thing is it was quite interesting to explore.  
  
When it came to realization, he had Aziraphale squirming, twisting the bedsheets between his fingers under the touch of his tongue. His body began to shiver a few minutes ago, as he let out nothing but feeble sighs so far. He was trying to resist that.  
  
That made Crowley surprisingly pleased with himself. Because at that point he already knew how to tell when the angel wanted him. And at that very moment, he wanted him desperately.  
  
  
As a being of love, Aziraphale's thoughts on the matter were that it was only natural when being touched by someone who loved him as long and fondly as Crowley did.  
  
Involuntarily, Aziraphale arched his back when Crowley palmed his cock and slithered his tongue from the base to the tip. Slowly enough so that he wouldn't come just from it. Precisely enough so that in a few minutes he would have to beg him to let him come.  
  
And he would. Eventually.  
  
A good thing to be said about sex is that Aziraphale did not feel, from the very beginning, the less vexed about it. He played along, no matter what it led to.  
  
Whenever he wanted to do it, he had no problem demonstrating it.  
  
In saying how much he wanted it. How hard. How fast.  
  
"Darling... please."  
  
He heard him beg, in a whimper, with the words melting like a candy from reddish pursed lips.  
  
Crowley tried to ignore the jolt that went through his body, as he went up and rolled the angel to his own front. He slowly crawled over Aziraphale's body, leaving behind a trail of kisses on his back.  
  
He stared closely at his flustered face, red not with shame but need. The angel was beautiful as a jewel.  
  
Aziraphale panted, feeling the intensity of those yellow eyes burning on his skin, making everything underneath it seems to boil and beg. Ardently beg for him.  
  
So he did.  
  
"... Fuck me now."  
  
Crowley caressed, gently, the side of his handsome face.  
  
Truth was he had him at "darling".  
  
Aziraphale let out a soft, delighted moan, when he put himself inside him.  
  
That was the odd part, for Crowley. Even when he wasn't vocal about it, Aziraphale would do the necessary to make himself understood - and, more importantly, satisfied.  
  
He would kiss him whenever he wanted to, if Crowley didn't do it first. He would ask for more as much as he wanted to have more, whether with his words or with his own body. He would reach for him with the same hunger and passion as he would pull Crowley's hips closer to hit him deeper and deeper when he was the one fucking him. He didn't wait for Crowley to do everything on his own and, in opposite to the previous metaphore, he never let Crowley in the dark.  
  
Crowley intertwined his fingers with Aziraphale's hands as he moved, thrusting him harder in every pound. He hadn't verbalized that he wanted it harder yet, but at this point they didn't need to verbalize much. Demonic thing or not, Crowley knew all his buttons as if an extension of his own self.  
  
Aziraphale, panting, swiveled his head back and pulled his face closer for a kiss. His moans and sighs went muffled against Crowley's mouth. Oddly enough, the angel knew all his buttons as well. In a few moments they would be melting into each other and seeing a million stars.  
  
But soon later he would unavoidably leave, usually without saying a word or waking him up. Like he wanted to avoid looking at that he did. Like he didn't want to wake up next to him.  
  
In a certain occasion, Crowley stayed up. Around four to five in the morning, when the sky was still pitch black, he saw Aziraphale getting up from his side of the bed and dressing himself back. A few moments later, he would make a turn around the bed to gently remove a strand of red hair from his eyes, placing it behind his ear to better see his sleepy face. And then lay a kiss on his forehead.  
  
Crowley wasn't aware of that part until that moment.  
  
Aziraphale was already straightening his posture to leave the room when he felt something grab him by the wrist. And heard Crowley's voice murmur in the dark:  
  
"Did I do something wrong?"  
  
Reflecting eeriely between the dark brumes of the night, the angel's crystal eyes blinked as if confused about that question.  
  
"Not at all, my dear. Why do you ask?"  
  
"You would..." Crowley sat on the bed, firming the grasp of his hand on Aziraphale's wrist to make him realize how vital that was for him. "... tell me if I did, right? If I did anything that upset you?"  
  
Aziraphale smiled, fondly. He was always so concerned about him.  
  
"You mustn't worry about that, my love." Aziraphale lightly pressed his lips against Crowley's, not giving it much more thought. "You should rest. Don't you worry, I'll see myself out. Good night."  
  
Crowley did not answer or made another move, watching reactionless as the angel left the bedroom, stopping by the threshold to glance back at him and smile. A few seconds later he would hear the sound of the front door being opened and immediately closed.  
  
"Love."  
  
He repeated the way Aziraphale had addressed him, mechanically. It didn't run through his body like a jolt of electricity, though. Not this time.  
  
Crowley stretched his arm under the bed, looking for his pants. He didn't think he would sleep anymore.  
  
Aziraphale loved him, he knew that. He has said it many times. But...  
  
But if he loved him, why'd he leave every time? Why couldn't he stay with him?  
  
"Stay. Stay with me." He murmured under his breath, feeling so stupid while doing so.  
  
For fuck's sake. Just once.  
  
Crowley was well aware that he had never asked him to. Perhaps a part of him was somehow still expecting that Aziraphale would feel like staying with him by his own will. It just didn't happen yet.  
  
I feel so stupid, he thought once again.  
  
Either it was his fault for not speaking up as clearly as Aziraphale would or there was nothing wrong at all and love was _just like that_. And he was just expecting too much from it. Who knows.  
  
He was not sure if it was really expecting too much or if it was even love at all. Maybe he was too much of a demon to understand the difference.  
  
He drew the curtains again, not feeling like seeing the sun until it was made necessary.


	5. dusk

V.

The nights that followed went all very similar. In a certain point, Crowley didn't feel like doing anything the less intimate if it was what was driving Aziraphale away. So he no longer invited him to his place nor asked him about meeting at the bookshop.

He only realized how he let the space between them grow large again when it came to realization how unnatural any touching had began to feel again. At St. James watching the red sunset from their favourite spot, Aziraphale have been resting his head on his shoulder for the past minutes in which he'd stopped reading his book. Crowley have been quiet for a while and he wanted to get his attention back. He seemed to be anywhere else.

Crowley felt his lips softly kissing him on the neck, brushing the tip of his nose on his skin like an invitation to be present in that moment.

"It's getting late. We should go."

Aziraphale did not seem to understand at first, keeping his head in the same position in which he expected to receive a kiss.

"All right." He agreeded, not entirely certain of the reason behind that interruption. Perhaps Crowley just wanted to continue at his place. That thought made him cheer up a bit. "How about we order in tonight? I was quite fond of the Chinese we had last - "

"I'll drop you at your place."

Aziraphale's smile faded on his face along his suggestion, as he watched Crowley get up from the bench and look inside his jacket for his sunglasses.

"Oh. I thought...?" He tried to articulate that thought without sounding disappointed. "But couldn't we...?"

Crowley looked back at him when he was still searching for words. The angel tried to smile to suggest something that seemed too much of an obvious ending for that evening to be put in words.

"Couldn't we stay in your place tonight?"

"We'd better not."

"I'd like to be with you a bit longer." He continued without paying attention to Crowley's last comment. "We don't have to do anything if you don't feel like it, perhaps we could just...?"

"Why?"

Aziraphale interrupted himself once again, surprised by that question. Crowley no longer seemed distant. He seemed upset.

"Why would you want what?" Crowley felt that question leave his throat like it was made of stones. He didn't want to be enfuriated, but he was too frustrasted to be able to ignore it anymore. "You clearly don't want that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Us, being together at all, I just don't get it. I don't get how it works for you. I can't tell whether you hate what we are doing, if you thing it is wrong or a sin or anything like that, or if it is the only bit that actually makes sense to you." Crowley rambled everything at once, trying not to think too much about the next words or he wouldn't be able to say everything he wanted and needed to. "I really can't tell and it kills me because either way it makes me feel like I'm forcing you to do something you don't want to, making you spend more time with me than you'd like.

"More time with you than...?" Aziraphale frowned, unable to understand where was that coming from. "Crowley, I've never said you were forcing me to do anything."

"Well, it sure as hell doesn't seem like it, does it."

"What are you even talking about? Of course I enjoy spending time with you, Crowley, more than anything. I tell you all the time. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Then why do you leave every single time?"

That came out louder than he expected it to. Sadder.

He felt sad just by having to say that out loud.

"Why do I... Oh. I see."

Aziraphale straightned his legs in the bench, looking down as if searching for a missing spot on the grass. He went quiet for a few seconds, in which the sun disappeared completely lefting behind but a trail of orange-purple afterglow.

The same afterglow Crowley saw reflected in his eyes when he raised them back at him, but those were a different kind. A kind he'd never seen until then.

Those were glistening like the lake before them. Watery with the tears he'd, not once, seen falling from his eyes. And certainly was not expecting to see at that moment.

"You think... that I'm indifferent to it. Don't you?"

"I..." Crowley hesitated, caught of guard by that question. "I don't know what to think."

"But still you have thought. Isn't that correct? That whenever I left, it was me leaving you. Leaving you and the side we chose together."

Aziraphale stopped speaking, as if processing that entire conversation. Crowley didn't know what to say in response. When Aziraphale spoke again, he said:

"Forgive me. I never meant to make you sad."

Crowley felt himself shatter when the tears cumulating in the angels eyes began to pour on his beautiful face. Somehow it seemed like the whole world went grey as cement.

"Aziraphale, there's no need to- Why, come on." Crowley knelt in front of him, wiping his tears with his thumb. They were warm and made him anguish like something he had to fix."You're being so silly, who cares if I-?"

"I do!" The angel shouted, outraged. "Of course I do, you idiot, as if it isn't the whole point."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry." He rushed to miracle a handkerchief to wipe the tears off the angel's face, whose nose and cheeks were getting so red as touched by the hardest winter. "I know you do, I apologise. Wanna go somewhere? I'll give you a ride, anywhere you'd like to go."

Aziraphale quietly blew his nose on the handkerchief, looking down in silence while Crowley held such a concerned look staring at him. After a while, he raised his bright inquisitive blue eyes to ask in the most child-like possible tone.

"Anywhere?"  


* * *

"Do you remember the mornings in The Garden?"

"What about them?"

"There was... something about them." Aziraphale distractely brushed his fingers through the small bones in Crowley's hand. "From the beginning I have a sense that I was put on Earth in some sort of punishment."

"What for?"

"I was not sure. I did not know what either fear or loneliness were back then, so I assumed it was part of said punishment. Then there was the first night and it went on, and on, and on for longer than I thought I could endure. So I prayed to God that She would show me the way to repent my wrong. Still She remained silent."

"Yeah, sounds a lot like Her."

"It was a... terrifying sensation. To feel entirely on my own, unknowing of what I have done that failed Her. To know that I was supposed to guard and protect, but not what from. I did not fear the dark as much as I did the... silence. Her silence, mostly. Then it followed the first dawn and it was..."

Aziraphale went quiet for a few moments. Crowley felt him nestling a bit closer under his arm.

"... Glorious." He continued, as if still dwelling in that memory. "It was so different from everything I have ever felt since the first time I acknowledged myself as a being of feelings. When the first beams of light appeared from behind the desert, when the light first touched my skin, everything went away. And I just knew. Under that light, so warm and bright, I felt Her closer and stronger than ever. And engulfed by that light I felt the most important. And taken care of, protected... and loved."

Crowley understood where that was leading to. A Heaven thing. He remembered those well.

"Did that keep happening on the following years? This holy moment between the two of you?"

"It did, yes. Every morning. "

"Okay. I get it now."

"You don't."

Lowering his eyes to meet his, Crowley found him staring at the nothing. His bright blue eyes twitching in a frustrated frown.

"In every dusk that came followed by every dawn, so many nights and days I've witnessed God wipe away all the darkness and greet me with the reassurance of Her love, basking under Her light. Reassuring me that I was worthy of it."

"What changed?"

"I'm no longer afraid of the dark. I fell for it."

Crowley opened his mouth for a reply he would never be able to articulate.

Oh.

"I..." He mouthed sounds that in nothing resembled words. "You mean-"

"I chose us, Crowley. And I'd choose us again no matter how many times I was given the opportunity not to. But there are some implications to it which I am not ready to face. Especially not when laying next do you. I simply can't risk it."

"That she finds out? We've been doing this for quite a while now. You really think she doesn't know?"

"I can't risk having Her light shone upon us and She finding me in your arms, already feeling the most important, taken care of and loved creature in creation. And it... scares me the most."

Aziraphale took a deep breath, as if that thought startled a turmoil inside him.

"Whether what we are doing is wrong or not, it's not up to me to decide. And it wouldn't make a difference if I was to be the only affected by it. But I'm not sure of what She might do to you, and this feeling this uncertainty being so well aware that I wouldn't be able to protect you, it just... dreads me with fear. I can't risk you."

Crowley gently pushed the angel's head against his chest, bringing him closer. Unaware from any of them, the tears that fell from Aziraphale's long eyelashes, small and delicate as morning dew, were quickly absorved by the demon's shirt.

After a few minutes under a comfortable silence from both parts, Crowley finally commented on a foiled mutter:

"This is not fair."

"I know." Aziraphale sighed, disappointed with himself for not being able to handle it in a better way. "I'm truly sorry."

"No. Not fair with you. You shouldn't have to feel any of this, all this responsability and this guilt. Not for God, definitely not for me."

"What do you think I should do instead?"

"I don't know. Maybe trying not to worry about me or things so completely out of your can, I think. And perhaps kissing me, also."

Aziraphale smiled, delighted. Leaning his head back to look at him directly.

"My dear Crowley, I love you so much." Aziraphale cupped his face between his hands, as a treasure. "You are the most beautiful and kind and sweet. You are perfect in every way. I love every single bit of you."

Crowley once again mouthed something that in no aspect resembled words. Then Aziraphale proceeded to kiss him, as requested.

* * *

In the next morning, Aziraphale buttoned his vest in silence, assisted by the dim light coming from the corridor. Once finished, he looked over his shoulder to see if Crowley was still asleep. He was. With his face turned in his direction and his mouth half open, like a child. Aziraphale watched for a few moments the way Crowley's body would seamlessly move up and down as he breathed. So peaceful. Sleeping as an angel, one could say.

Not to Crowley, though. Crowley would hate it.

As he got up, he felt immediately tired. Not the kind of exhaustion that could be cured with sleep, but precisely the kind that could be avoided by commiting to the life he chose to have, and he hated it. He hated feeling so uncompromised with the things he wanted.

Aziraphale went to the living room to take the coat he remembered leaving laying on the couch. As he dressed it, he tried to recall where he would have left the book he was reading at the park. He took a quick look around trying to locate it, but it wasn't there. In the car, perhaps? He let out a disappointed sigh remembering that he had gotten to a good part of the story, but that would have to wait. He wouldn't wake Crowley up because of it.

Aziraphale enjoyed being there. Something about the plants and the dim lights were very soothing. He was walking towards the front entrance when something caught his eye from the corner.

Over the kitchen's countertop he discovered the old leatherback book meticulously placed by the side of a red ceramic mug, steaming with something sweet scented. Hot cocoa. For him.

He walked back to Crowley's bedroom, finding him still lying in bed. Now facing the opposite wall.

That moment he knew that Crowley would never again complain about being left alone in the mornings. No matter how much he still disliked it.

Aziraphale swallowed dry something he was not entirely sure what it was. But it tasted a lot like sadness. Like a good thing going to waste.

He had something to do before going home.

The angel carefully removed his coat once again, placing it nicely on the countertop next to his book and the hot cocoa he was hoping to savor soon. He also removed his shoes and socks, without any reason other than trying to avoiding making unnecessary noises. He walked all the way to Crowley's office, calmly opened the glass window separating it from the balcony and went outside. It was a beautiful night, soon to become a beautiful morning.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, feeling the gentle breeze caress his face.

"My Lord and my God, I speak to thee."

"Since I've first acknowledged myself as a sentient being, an existing thing that Was, I knew that I was not adequate. I wad introduced to the adequate angels and had Your Grace to guide my actions to be always the most adequate ones, but I've learned that this adequacy was not something I could fulfill. The imperfection was something I should put up with, not change. And never question.

You see, My good Lord, here's the pickle. I enjoy being myself, mostly. I enjoy liking the things I like, being among them and dedicating myself to them. I was never sure if it was due to my own flaws as an unfit principality or something entirely different, but I assumed you would tell me if whatever I did was inappropriate enough to deserve a reprimand.

Well, I never got one. So I thought it should be fine. But you've been rather quiet for a while now. So I believe it can't hurt to clarify a few things."

"I am an angel and I shall live as an angel for as long as you desire to have me under Your Grace. I remain subservient and glee to live under Your Word, responding to You alone. But I've chosen my side and it is not the same as Heaven's. I chose the Earth where you put me to serve and protect. I chose to live by his side. Imperfect as I am, he loves me. And I love him just as much. I don't see this predicament changing anytime soon for any of us. This is why I turn to you."

I offer my entire being to you, to smite all evil and flaws it might withhold. I surrender my immortal soul in your hands to cleanse and purge as you desire. But if any of the imperfections you decide to wipe away are also the ones that make me so happy about being alive, I ask you to smite me whole at once. For I would rather not to be than to live in a lie."

"My Lord.

I pledge you to let us be."


	6. dawn (epilogue)

Something was wrong.

Crowley woke up without realizing he had actually been asleep, disrupted by the strangest feeling. Something was wrong. He grasped the fabric of his shirt, feeling the heart of that human vessel racing so fast it seemed it would burst.

Outside the sun was high and bright. He overslept.

Did he have a sort of nightmare? He tried to recall, but couldn't confirm. It felt so strong, so dense to be merely a lingering sensation from a nightmare. It felt current.

It was still happening.

His hand reached for the watch over the nighstand. Five past six. Aziraphale should be home by then, he thought about giving him a call to make sure everything was alright.

Crowley looked back at the window, squinting when the direct light hit him in the eyes. He doublechecked the time in the watch. That watch had never showed him the wrong time before.

Either it couldn't be five past six...

Or it couldn't be the sun.

Crowley drew the curtains a bit open, confused, only to see it was not coming from the sky. The sunrise had already began but it was not nearly as bright as it should be to produce such light. There was something odd about it. It was hitting his eyes like the reflection of the sun on the Bentley's bumper in the brightest day of summer, but it was not being reflected anywhere else. Not a window on the opposite buildings, not on the streets. Almost as something entirely...

Holy.

When his brain finished that thought, his heart went racing again. He opened the glass window to look outside, leaning over the balcony's railing to look for the source of it. Looking left, Crowley had to cover his eyes instinticvely with his hand when facing the light directly. Squinting the most he could not to be blinded by it, it seemed like the Sun had been placed in the next balcony. But there was more than that. Amidst the rays of blinding white light, he could see eyes. Thousands of eyes staring in every direction, covering wide open wings and the body of their barier.

Aziraphale?

He could not see his face underneath the gleam. He didn't need to recognize his face because in the very same moment he recognized what had woke him up.

He felt his distress. His fear and, more than that, his anger. Aziraphale was enfuriated as never before.

Those were not the emotions of someone who was supposed to be doing whatever it was that he was doing. Crowley rushed out of his room to stop him before it was too late.

He did not know what it could mean to be too late. That made him run faster.

The next balcony was attached to his office, which was enlightened as a bonfire already. The floor was covered by small jolts of golden light, like electrified by it. Irradiating said light, Aziraphale was standing in the balcony barefoot with his sleeves rolled up. Before him, the sun began to rise bright and iminent. He noticed Aziraphale's fists were firmly clenched. The angel stared at the dawn like he would fight it.

"Angel?"

Some of the eyes began focusing on Crowley. Those eyes's stare changed to something tender. The brightness began to dim. The distress started to dissipate. Aziraphale calmly looked over his own wing and Crowley saw the many eyes on his face gazing at him in a loving way.

Aziraphale turned back to look at him directly, no longer emanating light, slowly folding his wings back in a more relaxed manner. His sillhouette cast a shadow against the rising sun behind him, creating the illusion of golden beams across his outline. He was starting to feel at ease again.

"Are you okay?" Crowley murmured in a concerned and soothingly way, approaching him. One by one, the eyes on his body began to close and disappear and his wings were withdrawn completely. "What were you doing?"

Aziraphale smiled in a weary, gentle manner. Completely endeared by the concerned look on the demon's face.

"Praying. I suppose."

"What did you tell Her?"

Aziraphale put his arms on the balcony's rail, leaning against it. A warm and intense orange began coloring the scenery around them. A light breeze went by carressing their skins and playing with their hairs.

"I asked God to destroy me if it she wished to."

Crowley's yellow eyes were widen in a appalled, staggered way.

"You wh-The fuck, you bloody idiot, like what were you even-!"

"But that I wouldn't let her have you."

The demon's mouth opened f an outraged reprimand to the type of risk he put himself into and closed again without a sound after his last words.

"What-" Crowley's voice broke, so he cleared his throat and started over. "What did she say? Did she say anything?"

Aziraphale looked down, watching as the humans began to leave their houses for work or simply to handle their human affairs. In every one of them he could feel the love of God reverberating.

"Not so much in words. Her silence had me worried, actually. And that made me prepare myself for the worst."

"Being the worst fucking dying on my very balcony?"

"Being the worst having to defy God if needed." Crowley rolled his eyes, grunting in exhasperation after that answer. "I didn't think this much ahead."

"God damn it, angel." Crowley rubbed his own face with his hands and cursed, immediately feeling a sting on his tongue from professing sacred words.

"I know, I know, but I was hoping it wouldn't come to that. I just... wanted to be seen. As I truly am, not as some faint tentative of whom I should be."

"Don't I see you already?"

"You do, precisely, because you love me. So does God, supposedly. That was my point. I don't see the use of a love that won't accept me whole. As you did."

Aziraphale said those words in such a serious, truthful manner, that for a moment Crowley forgot how to breathe. He was being dead honest and he didn't hesitate to say those words out loud. To say them to God's face without a glimpse of fear in his eyes.

How could one be so brave yet keep their heart so vulnerable and tender, he would never know.

"But..." Aziraphale continued, looking up. The pink-blueness of the morning sky matched his eyes perfectly. "I felt her grace as strong as ever, so I believe it was the answer. Because I am not afraid of her disapproval anymore. And after all..."

Aziraphale smiled, gleefully. He never felt so happy about being an angel.

"What did she do all these mornings but wipe away my worst fears?"

Crowley didn't know what to say. Quietly, he approached Aziraphale and threw his arms around his body, hugging him from behind. Resting his chin on his shoulder and closing his eyes, cherishing every sensation he could get from that contact. Feeling the need to seize each second as gift from God for sparing his angel.

After a few minutes, Aziraphale asked:

"Is the view really better from your bedroom?"

Crowley opened his eyes to the incandescent sun rising before them.

"Uncomparably."

Aziraphale smiled, turning back to face him in the eyes. He wrapped his arms around the demon's, as if waiting to be conducted.

"Then show me."

Aziraphale closed his eyes in a smirk when Crowley turned his head to kiss him on the temple, guiding them back inside the apartment.

Outside, the morning was astounding as never before. The clouds traveled lazily across the orange sky, still flirting with the bright blue. Birds began to chirp and sing their melodies in a free, yet harmonious choir. It was a nice day. All the following would be nicer.


End file.
